


Words of war

by kittyxmochi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, WWII AU, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyxmochi/pseuds/kittyxmochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WWII AU.  Mycroft Holmes is a high ranked british officer, specialized into intelligence related missions.  In a string of operations to take down nazis secret camps, his team falls upon a man who could change more than the war's outcome.  He could even change Mycroft's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In my times of need

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift for Parnassesrose for the winter mystrade exchange. Once again, I'm so sorry for posting this days late! I hope you like it <3 And don't worry, there's gonna be fluff later on :D
> 
> English translations are at the end of the chapter :)

The hidden Nazi camp had been smaller than Mycroft had expected. Or to be more precise, the invasion of it had been easier.  Not that he hadn't expected everything to go as planned.  
  
" _Any casualties?_ " he asked his second in command  
  
" _None on our side, sir_ "  
  
" _Good_. "  
  
" _We did find something unexpected though_ "  
  
He raised a questioning eyebrow and made a sign of his head to indicate to the other man to lead the way.  
  
The unexpected thing was in fact an unconscious half naked man, tied by the wrists to the ceiling.  It had been obvious they had tortured him, with blood drying on his chest and back and the different bruises colouring his skin.  He had an open wound on his head that'd need stitching and probably a few cracked ribs but otherwise, he would survive.    
  
" _Take him in and patch him up, I want to question him when he wakes up._ "  
  
" _Yes sir_ "  
  
That man knew things, Mycroft was sure of it.  The Nazis were rarely toying with their victims for so long if they had no reason to.  And this man had been in this room for days at least.  
  
The survey and wrapping up of the whole place took his men less than two hours. He supervised everything, not wanting to miss a single information he could get.  His men were good, but he preferred to not take any chance.  Once that was done, bombs were set so there was nothing to be left standing once they had vacated the premises.   
  
They went back to their own base, the trip back quick and without any problem. Mycroft settled to send reports about what they found to his superiors and his men resumed their search of other camps they could dismantle on their own.  When he finally managed to go see the wounded man they had retrieved, said man was still unconscious.  Laying in an infirmary bed they had moved in a secluded locked room, his bruised skin was clashing against the white sheets, even in the dim light.  Without all the wounds and with better clothes, Mycroft could picture the man being a high ranked officer. From what he could see, he deduced that this man was slightly older than him and was working on the field, unlike him who ran more intelligence-related missions.  Either he got captured with his men and he was the last one to survive or, even more daring, he tried to infiltrate the base on his own. But in any case, he would have been killed if Mycroft's team hadn't intervened. From his wounds, he could tell that the man was headstrong and loyal. He wouldn't have talked, no matter what they would have done to him. That, in itself, was kind of admirable, Mycroft thought.  
  
  
Mycroft pondered for a while about who this man could be and what knowledge he could possess that made him so valuable to their enemies.  He was about to leave, already getting up from the chair he had settled in earlier, when the man in the bed started waking up.  
  
  
" _Putain....._ " muttered the man, groaning in pain.  
  
  
So, French officer it was. Interesting. He watched as the man blinked, disoriented, looking around as much as his aching body would let him.  He could pinpoint the exact moment he spotted him, his body going into defensive mode, despite the fact the man could barely move without feeling pain of some sort.  Part of the reason was him, his order to not give him enough painkillers was an usual procedure in these types of interrogations.  A little pain was always good to play with when you wanted a man to talk. Such barbaric measures, but desperate times called for such lengths.  
  
  
" _I take it you also speak English, am I right?_ "  
  
  
The soldier looked at him warily, not ounce of doubt or misunderstanding in his gaze, which assured Mycroft the man understood him perfectly.  
  
" _So you do._ "  
  
  
Mycroft let a small smug smile tug at his lips. He didn't let him add anything else, opting instead for a more aggressive approach.    
  
  
" _I'll tell you what I know instead. That will probably get you talking more quickly, since I highly doubt you'd do if I don't prove to you I'm not another enemy._  »  
  


He pointedly look at the man lying in bed, defying him to say otherwise, but seeing that wouldn't be the case, he followed with his speech.  
  


" _I'm certain you know things valuable to the Nazis or else they wouldn't have kept you alive for so long. I'm pretty sure you were infiltrating them but got found out before you could flee and I doubt you had a team accompanying you, or else we wouldn't have been the ones rescuing you. High-ranked French officer, you prefer the field to the paperworks linked to your rank. Profondly loyal to your country, your mental strenght is indeed a force to be reckoned with, as you withstood days of torture without giving any information away. Which makes you a threat to the nazis and an ally for us. Was I wrong?"_  
  


The man was staring at him, dumbfounded. Mycroft sighed inwardly, annoyed at how easy normal people seemed to get overwhelmed by his deductions.  
  
  
" _Why should I trust you?_ " a croaky voice asked instead.  
  
  
Interesting. It was the first time someone answered him like this.  
  
  
" _You're not dead_ "  
  
  
" _Doesn't mean you won't kill me when you have what you want_ "  
  
  
" _I hardly think that would be necessary, you seem to be the useful type. And dead, you wouldn't be of use to me._ "  
  
  
The man looked at him for a moment, thinking.  
  
  
" _I'm Greg Lestrade.  And I'm not your tool. I'll only help you out 'cause we want the same thing._ "  
  
  
Mycroft raised a questioning eyebrow. " _Oh, really? And what is that?_ "  
  


Greg looked at him, incredulous. " _The end of all this mess, of course_ "  
  


" _Of course_ " he nodded, getting up from his seat.  
  


Lestrade watched his every move cautiously as he walked to a cabinet sitting in the corner of the room and took a syringe on it.  He could almost feel the mistrust in the eyes currently piercing holes in his back.  
  
  
" _Anaesthetics. Can't really sleep well with the pain of fractured ribs, can you?_ "  
  
  
 _"Been through worse..."_  
  
  
" _Oh, I don't doubt it Mr Lestrade. But I need you up and walking as soon as possible._ "  
  
  
Greg smirked with dark humour. " _Can't eat if I don't earn my keep, right..._ "  
  
  
He stayed still while Mycroft made the injection.  Which was something he found a bit destabilising: he rarely did lowly tasks like these himself, but what was the strangest was the lack of tension in the arm under his touch. As if the French officer trusted him, almost. Or rather that he knew he had no choice and made peace with it, putting his life on the line knowing there was no way out.    
  
" _You are indeed a multi-talented man._ " mumbled the wounded officer.  His body was already relaxing under the drugs influence and sleep was reclaiming its due. " _Pas que je vous fasse confiance...._ "   
  
Mycroft hummed, putting away the medical supplies in case of further use.  
  
" _Bonne nuit Mr Lestrade._ " he added as he got out the room, the man in the bed already fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2~~ 
> 
> I'm so sorry for the wait, my inspiration is a strange thing. The chapter is once again quite short. I prefered posting a shorter chapter than make you all wait for a possibly longer one. It's also possible it'll be a longer fic than a 2 or 3 chaptered-one, will depend on my dear inspiration haha

It took almost two days for Greg Lestrade to recover enough to be able to sit down and have a lenghty conversation. The blow that had caused the wound on his head had also left him with a slight concussion, which his dehydrated state hadn't helped.  His ribs would take weeks to heal completely, but as long as one could breathe and walk, it was considered healed enough to return on the battlefield.  To his honour, the French soldier wasn't the whining type, rather taking the pain and captivity  lightly, jopting instead to nurture a good mood around him **.** The medical staff quickly warmed to him, even if he acted as if he spoke next to none english. Mycroft found himself, despite his best intentions, captivated by what he could easily guess was the way Greg Lestrade managed his undercover missions.  Despite his method being quite different from his, he could see how easily one could gather intel like this.  No wonder this man was so valuable to some.     
  
" _ So what did you learn from your little game with the medical staff? _ " he asked, tone light but face serious,  as he settled in the room. The French officer smirked at the question.   
  
" _ Roughly how many men you have working here, at least in this buiding, and how long you've been stationned here. Also, I have a vague idea of the camp location, when compared to the location of the nazi camp you've found me in. _ "   
  
" _ Interesting. _ "     
  
He would need to see to the blabbering of his staff, as it could prove to be problematic later on if not treated quickly. But the man was good, he had to admit. Not as good as him, which would be quite difficult to achieve, but better than some of his own men even.  And god knows that Mycroft Holmes was quite difficult to impress.   
  
"  _ Also learned some random stuff, like what's the best meal served at the kitchen area. Which totally beats what I had back at my own camp. _ " A bittersweet smiled flashed on his lips before being replaced with his usual relaxed smile.     
  
" _ Another random piece of intel I found was that it's no ordinary camp and that you're the boss here.  Tried to dig deeper, but either your men know nothing about you or that they know better than to tell. _ "   
  
" _ Which is wise _ " Mycroft smiled, unable to hide a bit of his smugness from his voice.   
  
" _ I guess so _ " Greg added before sitting upright in his bed, with a little difficulty due to his ribs.  

" _ Wouldn't mind knowing your name though, if we're to work together. _ "   
  
He extended his hand forward.  " _ Greg Lestrade _ . "   
  
" _ Mycroft Holmes _ " he took the offered hand and shook it quickly but firmly.   
  
" _ Shall we get working then? The war's not gonna win itself with me laying in bed all day. _ "   
  
He then carefully but quickly threw his legs over the bedside and manoeuvered his body so he could stand up. He looked around and walked towards the only table in the room, clearing the few things that were still on it.     
  
" _ Do you have a map? It'll be easier to show you _ "   
  
Mycroft got his head out of the door and asked the man standing guard to go fetch what he needed.  The man didn't take long, knocking on the door as soon as he got back.  Greg took the material from Mycroft's hands, setting it down on the table, and scribbled points and circles on different spots.   
  
" _ These are Nazi camps I've found about in the last month.  This one being the one where I was captured.  They all are independent from one another so if one's attacked, it doesn't impact the others.  I assume you took a few down? _ "   
  
" _ Yes, these ones _ " Mycroft tapped with his finger the few they had managed to destroy.   
  
" _ Okay _ ". Greg crossed them out.  They were few compared to the still active ones.     
  
"  _ So that leave us with these ones. _ " He pointed at two points on the map, at the edge of the German and British borders.    
  
" _ These two are the ones you need to worry about, that's where they keep most of their ammo.  These ones -he tapped on another two spots- are the most well-guarded and have higher ranked officers.  It'd take more manpower but you could gain more intel by attacking these.  The only downside, the other camps will surely hear more quickly about the attack. _ "   
  
" _ How long was your reconnaissance mission? _ "   
  
" _ Was supposed to be a month but I lost my team after two weeks and got captured on the third. Why? Is something wrong? _ " The French officer was looking at him, unsure as to why the other man was suddenly looking at him with that look instead of the map.   
  
" _ No no, I'm just impressed of all you've found in so little time, that's all. _ " answered the English man truthfully.     
  
" _ Ah, really? Well thanks... I guess? _ " You could see the shy hesitation of an unexpected compliment in the other man's posture. Shyness he didn't even know why he was feeling. He cleared his throat in an attempt to regain some of his composure, but failed when he found himself wincing his pain, his fractured ribs reminding him of their presence.   
  
" _ Well, anyway. There was also other things my team found out while undercover. _ "   
  
Their discussion went on and on for the next two hours or so, informations from both sides being exchanged.  When Greg couldn't endure the pain of pacing around anymore, Mycroft forced him to lay down and get some rest.  Even then, it took half an hour and a shot of painkillers to make him agree to get some sleep. If Mycroft thought the man's loyalty was something to admire the first time he saw him, he now had the proof it was nothing when mixed with his tenacity and selflessness.  But thanks to that, they now had a better idea of how to inflict the most damage to the enemy with as little casualty on their side as possible.

 


	3. New Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for the wait between the two chapters!! Live have been hectic with a new semester of school and lots of stress due to personal reasons. But I have good news! Chapters 4 and 5 are already planned and bits here and there are already written, so it shouldn't take as long for the next updates. 
> 
> I hope this chapter will meet your expectations dear readers! Comments are always welcome :D

 

Mycroft took a few of his most trusted and discreet men to send on a scouting mission.  The informations he had obtained from the French officer seemed valid but he wouldn't do anything concrete as long as he knew for sure the intel was trustworthy. He also took an hour of his precious time to call some people from over the border who owed him a few favors.  There was something he wanted answers about and that was the quickest way he could obtain them. He was glad that none tried to pry for the reason of his request because he didn't feel like dealing with stupidity.  An hour later, he received a phone call with all the informations he needed.  He now knew who Gregory Lestrade really was.  He wasn't surprised to see that what he had learned was spot on, the French officer having not bothered to lie to him about what he had told him.

Hours later, his men came back. They had divided in groups to cover all the zones they had to verify, but all of them were unanimous: the details they had been given were spot on. Mycroft thanked them for their hard work and sent them to rest. So that Greg Lestrade had been saying the truth on everything.  
  
Now, he only needed to see if the man would continue to help them out or if he'd prefer going back home now that he had given all the useful intel he seemed to possess. From what he had deduced about the man's character and what he gathered from his personal file, he was pretty sure of the answer but he'd still need to ask him, to be sure. The French officer had the habit of surprising him.   
  
That night, when he paid him his usual visit, Mycroft offered him the choice. He even assured him he wouldn't have any problem on the road since he would send a few men to escort him back home.

The French officer seemed to ponder over it for a short moment, but instead answered what Mycroft had predicted.

" _I love my country but I feel as if I can do much more if I stay here. At least for now. Anyway...they must think I'm dead by now..._ ."   
  
" _Actually, you're only classified as MIA officially._ "   
  
Greg look at him strangely, slightly annoyed.   
  
" _I know full well how it works. I'm not some kid who just enrolled_ "   
  
" _I am well aware of that_ ."   
  
Greg stared at him, the sense of Mycroft's words slowly dawning on him.   
  
" _You mean you contacted people from overseas?_ " Shock was clear in his expression. " _How did you manage to get someone to tell you about me? Only a handful of high-ranked people know about my division, most people haven't even heard about it_ ."   
  
" _Indeed_ ."   
  
Greg was baffled, speechless for a second as he looked the English officer in a new light.   
  
" _Bon dieu....I knew you were influent, but had no idea how much though_ "   
  
" _Don't exaggerate, I only have a few connections here and there_ "   
  
" _Yeah, right. If that's true, then I'm the pope_ " he snorted in derision .     
  
Mycroft shot him a doubtful look.   
  
" _Does your Highness wish to know about the next operation?_ " he deadpanned .    
  
" _You're already starting the plan we discussed yesterday?_ "   
  
" _The quicker, the better_ ."   
  
" _I guess you had your men checking out all the intel I gave you?_ "   
  
" _Of course, can't act if I'm not fully certain of all the parameters_. »

Greg hummed in approval.

" _Will you keep me updated on the progress?_ " He asked, clearly hoping he wouldn't be left in the dark. Being stuck in this room was quite enough for him to pull out his hair so being left out of the action he had worked on organising would be pure torture.  
  
" _About that, I had something to propose to you_ "  
  
Greg looked at him, surprised.  
  
" _If you feel up to it, you could join my team: your expertise could prove to be quite useful. I asked the doctor and you seem to be well enough to join an infiltration operation._ "  
  
The French officer was dumbfounded for a moment, clearly not having expected that proposition.  
  
" _You're serious, right?_ " He was unsure if the man was playing games with him but he decided to trust him.  
" _Of course I'm in. What's the plan of action?_ "  
  
Now that he was being needed, that he could do something useful, he had a new energy to him and his ribs weren't bothering him so much anymore.  
  
Mycroft took out some maps and papers and started showing how their operation would unfold and the roles of each member of the team. Their main goal was to get the maximum intel possible before getting rid of the enemy soldiers as quickly and as silently as possible. They didn't want the camps around to notice anything before they'd be gone.  
  
" _The men are getting ready, we leave two hours before dusk tomorrow. We'll wait until dusk to initiate the operation. The doctor will come before you leave to wrap your chest so your ribs won't bother you too much. You'll get an extra dose of painkillers too, for the road._ "  
  
" _Sounds good. Anything else I could help with?_ "  
  
" _No, everything is being taken care of. You only need to rest, I'm not taking you out if you end up only being a weight that drags us down._ "  
  
The words sounded harsh, but the French officer didn't mind at all. He had heard so much worse directed at him before.  
  
" _No need to worry, I won't cause any problems_ "  
  
" _Good. Then I bid you farewell for the night. I'm awaited elsewhere._ "  
  
There were still things the British officer needed to take care of before tomorrow. If he could catch up a few hours of sleep before their departure, it would be almost out of sheer luck.   
  
" _Sure. Try to get some sleep too though, you look like you could use some rest._ "  
  
Mycroft raised a questioning eyebrow.  
  
"Didn't mean to insult you, its just I know how easy it is to forget basic things like sleeping when you're preparing that kind of mission. Plus, you kind of seem to fall into yourself more easily when you pile up lack of sleep.''  
  
" _I don't see what you're talking about._ "  
  
That was a lie, but there was no way in hell that Mycroft would let out that the other man was spot on right. The English man couldn't help but be a little impressed.  
  
" _Its okay, I'm sorry I pushed. Don't want to keep you back on your work. I'll see you tomorrow evening then_ "  
  
Mycroft nodded, making his way towards the door.  
  
" _Good night Mr Lestrade._ "  
  
" _Greg, you can call me Greg, please. And good night to you too_ "  
  
The click of the door shutting resonated behind him, cutting short the bonding tentative the other man had tried to launch.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry!! It's been months since my last update!! But with school, work, conventions and a cold thrown in the mix, I didn't have much time to sit down and write. If it's a bit choppy and bleh, I'm sorry. I was so tired of it and just couldn't wait to post it, that I simply reread it quickly before posting it online.
> 
> I hope this new chapter will please you all. Once again, thank you for being so patient and don't hesitate to leave comments or questions!!

Dusk was slowly approaching, the sun making its way down. Everything was going according to plan, My-croft's men acting like well-greased engine parts of a well-working machine. Greg watched them go, standing on the side, unfamiliar faces with a common goal as his. He couldn't help but think of his fallen brothers, heart heavy with unwept tears. There was no telling of who would come back alive and who would not. He thought back to the vow he had made himself when all this mess started: never would he give up before he either died or that the war was over. After seeing how hellish the battlefield could be, he sometimes won-dered if it wasn't his strength of will and this vow that managed to keep him sane. As he watched over the men getting their weapons ready, his gaze fell upon Mycroft. The man had changed his uniform for some camouflage clothes, but that still failed to hide the authority the man emitted naturally. The little smile that grew on his lips as he noticed the man walking directly towards him died as soon as Greg noticed the dark circles under his eyes. It wasn't like he didn't know a war didn't wait for soldiers to rest up before going back to the field but he couldn't help but feel guilty at the thought that himself had managed to catch long hours of sleep since he got here.

 

" _Mr Holmes_ " he nodded in greeting as said officer catched up to him.

 

" _Officer Lestrade_ " Mycroft greeted back. " _Has the doctor taken care of you?_ "

 

" _Yeah, he wrapped my ribs so well I almost don't feel anything. The pain killers still need an hour to fully kick in, but I'll be alright until then."_

 

" _Good. Follow me, I've got some weapons ready for you. Can't have you go naked on the field_ "

 

" _Wouldn't be the first time_ " the French man couldn't help but add, snorting.

 

Mycroft raised a questioning eyebrow but didn't push further, instead turning his back and walking away, Greg on his tail. On a table nearby was all the typical weaponry and equipment someone would need for this type of mission, but the French man noticed that the size of equipment had been adjusted to deal with his wounds. He wouldn't suffer from his ribs too much, everything was thought to put as little a strain as possible on his body. He couldn't help but think that Mycroft could be behind it, but as he went to thank him, he found out the man had disappeared to give out orders to the rest of his men.

 

Greg shook his head, laughing at himself for the way he was thinking, always linking everything with the Brit-ish commanding officer. But still, as he was getting himself ready, it was nice having someone take care of you in these little ways. He was usually the one caring for his men, but as strange as it felt it was nice being in the other position.

 

~~~

 

It was mortifying, Mycroft thought to himself. No matter how much he tried to consider Greg like one of the other men under his command, he always failed to do so. There was something about this man that made him want to keep an eye on him. The French officer already having gained his respect was quite a feat al-ready on its own, but it didn't seem to stop there. Mycroft could have one of his men prepare the equip-ment, but part of his mind nagged him about the fact that the usual equipment would worsen the other man's wounds. It nagged him so much that he took care of it in the end. He tried to justify that strange be-haviour by telling himself that it was simply more efficient for their mission. He didn't want anyone dragging them down, would it be his own men or the French one. But as he watched the expression on the man's face as he noticed his light weight equipment, he reminded himself there were still orders to be given and left. There was a mission to launch in the hour after all.

 

~~~

 

They travelled quickly and silently, nothing blocking their way or slowing them down. They arrived at the en-emy base on time, settling down and preparing for the right moment to attack.

 

Once the sun was properly set and each of Mycroft's men were in place and ready, they moved into ac-tion. Everything went so quickly that Greg felt like one minute he was standing outside in the dark, and the other he was inside the camp, walking silently behind Mycroft as they were closing in on their target. It was almost scary seeing how efficient the English soldiers were: enemy corpses were starting to pile up on their wake and no alarm had been given out yet.

 

Even though he was an outsider to this group of men, the French officer noticed that the English soldiers had him covered as if he indeed were one of them. That felt a bit strange but in this kind of mission, if they wanted to make it through alive, there was no other choice than to do that. It was also oddly comforting, in a strange way, to feel part of a group after all that happened to him in the last weeks.

 

After what felt like hours, they had made their way into the center of operations. The few Germans that were still alive were Nazis officers that still needed to give them intel. Greg and a few other men were stand-ing guard while Mycroft was working on getting out the informations they needed.

 

The French officer was glad he hadn't been ask to stay in that room while Mycroft and a few others were 'working' on the prisoners. Some hidden dark part of him was delighted to hear those anguish and painful cries, revenge for all the pain he went through during his own captivity, but most of him was disgusted and nauseous at the mere sounds he was hearing. It was like a bitter aftertaste that wouldn't leave his mouth no matter how much he was gulping. It even crawled under his skin, making him jittery and dizzy. Those sol-diers were mere men too, only following orders from someone different than them.

 

After a while, silence fell from the other side of the door. Greg sighed, relieved. Mycroft and his men were apparently done with their interrogation. That meant there were pretty good chances they would leave the German camp and head for their own during the next hour. The British officer finally emerged from the room, face tired but hands still clean of any blood, and made his way towards him. He suddenly stopped, limbs jerking, as a loud sound pierced the silence. The hairs on Greg's neck stood straight, his body reacting before he even realised that what he just heard was the sound of a gunshot aimed their way.

 

In a flash, he was behind Mycroft, covering him with his body as he kept shooting towards the German sol-diers. The damn bastards had managed to stay hidden until now. Many shots were exchanged before he felt the blow to his shoulder, pain seeding through every nerve of his body. At least the adrenaline and the painkillers he had taken before dulled the pain a little. Gritting his teeth, he kept shooting until he hit his tar-get straight in the head. Not even stopping to check his wound, he simply moved on to another one. There were a lot of enemy soldiers encircling them, but with the efficiency of their own men and the ruling chaos around them, the Germans were slowly but assuredly being wiped out. It felt like hours though, with the screaming, shouting and heavy scent of powder mixed with blood saturating the air. They were all panting, nerves on end and fingers still on the trigger, but as seconds slowly turned into minutes, it was finally dawn-ing on them that the fighting was over, at least for now. Looking around, they realised that by sheer luck, not a single one of their men had been killed. A few were wounded, but nothing critical. Relief crashed over them but time was short and they had to keep going. Busying themselves, everyone spread around, leaving only Mycroft Holmes and Greg on the spot.

 

With the adrenaline dying down, the French officer had no choice but to feel the pain irradiating his whole upper body. His legs were starting to quiver, unable to hold him up much longer. Leaning into the nearest wall, he grunted under his breath, not wanting to draw any attention on himself. He clamped his hand over his wound, trying to stop the flow of blood but knowing he could only slow it down a bit this way. He was already feeling the effects of the blood loss, his head feeling light and his body heavy.

 

" _I'm gonna sit down for a bit, my ribs are acting up_ " he spoke up, trying to keep his voice even so the other man wouldn't turn around.

 

Mycroft hummed, not bothering to look at him as he surveyed the area. Greg leaned against a wall, hissing between his teeth. His fingers that were grasping at his shoulder were soaked in blood as he looked at them. Clamping them down on the wound again, he felt his legs giving out under him. He fell down the wall, grunting and cursing under his breath. His vision was darkening around the edges, which wasn't a good sign at all.

 

" _Sorry Mycroft, guess you'll have to continue the operation without me_."

 

Said man stopped dead on his tracks and turned around as he heard the French man talk, addressing him for the first time by his first name. Greg was sure he heard him curse as he made his way towards him in a flash.

 

" _You imbecile, you had to get shot_ "

 

" _Not like I wanted to. Guy was about to shoot you in the back_."

 

" _What guy?_ " Asked Mycroft as he was taking a look at Greg's wound.

 

" _A dead one_ " answered Greg, pointing with his head the direction of one of the corpse laying around them. That movement caused his vision to blur a bit more though.

 

" _I can see that. We'll need to get the bullet out of the wound and...Lestrade? Lestrade?!_ "

 

But it was too late, the French officer had passed out. His hand and shoulder were covered in blood, their crimson color contrasting with the whiteness of his face. His breathing was shallow but still regular at least, the officer noted as he checked the unconscious man's vitals.

 

" _Damn it all!_ " cursed loudly the English man as he looked up to see the blood trail the wounded man had left on the wall.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of the french sentences:
> 
> "Putain" = cuss word, loosely "shit"  
> "Pas que je vous fasse confiance" = "not that I trust you"  
> "Bonne nuit Mr Lestrade" = "Good night Mr Lestrade"


End file.
